


Ombrophobia

by s1lverwren



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, it's kinda canon compliant but not really, jj is just not having a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1lverwren/pseuds/s1lverwren
Summary: ombrophobia (noun): an abnormal and persistent fear of the rain, often caused by negative past experiences.everywhere she went, so went the rain.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Ombrophobia

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr saw it first. i was feeling very anxious when i wrote it so it's kind of a vent post

_ombrophobia (noun): an abnormal and persistent fear of the rain, often caused by negative past experiences._

Maybe it started all those years ago. The water rushing, spilling, overflowing onto her bathroom floor, her sister's body encased in it. It wasn’t the dripping that made her freeze, it wasn’t the dripping that terrified her, but it may have been the dripping that was the beginning of the end.

She was a young girl the first time it happened and the novelty of the billowing clouds that loomed over Roslyn's fresh grave was lost on her. It was straight out of cinema, the way the sky opened up, rain pouring over the grieving party’s shoulders. 

And, back then, she considered it Roslyn’s final goodbye. She too was shedding tears over her grave, reaching out in the only way she could to take some of the weight off her family and friends. 

Years flew by, rainstorms drowning the world out every so often. She grew up with the rain, the cold, humid Pennsylvania air beckoning it. She got used to having an umbrella tucked away in her bag, she got used to games being cancelled because of poor weather, she got used to the feeling of wet hair plastered on her neck as she walked down the sidewalk.

She never got used to the gloom.

Her father died junior year, heart failure taking him from her grasp. She’d sat by his pristine hospital bed, surrounded in the flowers of well-wishers, and stared out the window. Tear-shaped droplets of water slid down the glass, racing each other to the bottom. They left tracks, bars between her and the world without grief. 

The funeral four days later was all of the same. The world around her was drowned out by the sound of water hitting earth. They’d rushed the burial, none of them wanting to stay out too long in the November rain. Far quicker than she’d wanted, her father was whisked away from her.

She was starting to get sick of the rain.

College was a breeze. Away from her mother, her house, her memories, she could forget what she’d left behind. Afterwards, she moved even further, finally finding something she wanted to do, hoping, praying, that the distance between her and her old life would finally cease the downpour. 

It did for a while. When it rained - and it did rain - there was no burden for her to carry. She’d open her umbrella, step outside, and act like nothing was wrong, because for a while, nothing was. It was easy to pretend she was okay when all she had to do was turn away from the ever growing storm cloud hanging over her. 

Her phone didn’t have disuse in the months after Elle’s resignation. Storms happened for days on end in her absence. Every time a bright flash flew across her view, she had to restrain herself from calling. 

Reid’s kidnapping was her first clue that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as okay with rain as she thought she was. They’d sat in that hellhole for days, eyes glued to the screen, wishing for just a tiny hint of how to help him. She’d locked herself in the bathroom, eyes averting from the tub, and stared into her own eyes in the mirror. The storm clouds had rolled into the horizon of her life. 

They’d rescued him, but the damage was done to them both. He’d hid his trauma in the depths of his mind, locked the door, and threw away the key. It was a disaster for another day for Spencer. She wished she had that luxury. 

Gideon left, leaving behind rolling claps of thunder. It was dark when Spencer had called her that dreary morning, informing her that their team member was gone, and he wouldn’t be returning. She’d hung up the phone, no tears in her eyes, but the sound of water on her window filled her ears. 

Sometimes, when it was just her, she allowed herself to cry at the sight of rain. After she was reassigned, it rained for two weeks straight, a ceaseless downpour filled her life. Will had sat by her side, arms wrapped around her shoulders, whispering words of reassurance into her hair the first time she broke down in his presence. He didn’t ask questions, as he himself had demons when it came to storms, and for that she was forever grateful.

It rained when she got off the plane after the call. For the first time she had seen rain in months, she’d wished it had been under better circumstances. Prentiss was missing, and so was a piece of herself. She didn’t carry an umbrella so the water would mingle with her salty tears. 

The conversation that she and Hotch had about Emily’s fate had taken place on a bus stop bench, the smell of fresh precipitation floating into their noses. Her hands shook when he reached to help her up, and she didn’t know if it was because of the day’s events or because she knew that her wall against the rain had a large crack in it.

Ironically, it didn’t rain at the funeral. But, _god_ , did it storm in the aftermath. Through his tears, Reid didn’t notice hers. He didn’t notice how her gaze lingered in the collection of water on her windowsill. He didn’t notice how the shoulders his head lay on shuddered. He didn’t notice the incessant whispering that she was doing in an attempt to reassure herself. 

It was the universe laughing at her. “Oh, Jennifer Jareau is sad? Make it rain.” She knew what rain meant symbolically, she remembers that much of high school English. Yet, this was real life. Why the hell did a dark cloud just seem to be following her?

Then Will died. The explosion. Emily’s wordless apology that she couldn’t get out because of her wounds. The lack of a band on her finger. And the fucking rain. 

She had to sit with her child’s arms around her and explain over the torrent that his father was dead. His tiny fingers clutched around her ringless ones told her that he understood what she was telling him. Her eyes fell upon a picture of Rosalyn, and it was all she could do not to scream. 

Henry had insisted on wearing one of Will’s ties to the funeral, a dark blue one with the outlines of clouds on it. Fitting. Her team and what was left of their families gathered around the casket, droplets ricocheting off it as it was lowered into the ground. This time she didn’t leave early.

She sat by his headstone for what seemed like eternity before a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. Her mother attempted a smile and murmured something about how she was going to get sick from staying out in the rain and cold. She didn’t care. 

Emily left and it rained. 

After Alex Blake retired for good, the shaking really started. Rain rolled in, and the fidgeting followed. She couldn’t sit still, not without panic rising in her chest. She was trapped in a rainy day, never escaping, no more shoulders left to cry on, no funds left to draw out of. 

Penelope tried and failed to help her. When it rained, she delivered bright flowers and had her favorite music echo throughout the hallways, a desperate attempt to drown out the sounds of the cascades on the roof. It was almost comical, but she knew Garcia was just trying to help, and for that she was grateful.

She’d sat on the couch that resided in the former office of Derek Morgan, leg bouncing, nails digging into her palm. Reid joined her every now and then, but the memories of what was no longer oozed from the walls and it was just too much for him sometimes. It was the nail for the coffin she’d lied in since she was eleven.

Little over a year later came the hammer. It was after a bad case, and the image of the girl screaming for her help danced across her vision. There was no one there to comfort her, and so she sat on the bottom of her steps, muffling her cries so she wouldn’t wake up Henry.

Her phone rang. Several times. She ignored it the first few times because there was no way she’d be able to have a functioning conversation, not with the way tears were streaming down her cheeks and air caught in her throat. But she answered when the calling kept coming.

Aaron Hotchner was dead, a collision on the freeway. The other driver hydroplaned, losing control of his car, and ran straight into Aaron. They pronounced Hotch dead on the scene, but Jack, who was riding in the passenger seat, had escaped without much harm. 

And the rain kept pouring.

There was no one to call, no one to inform, except for his brother, who didn’t seem to care too much that his own flesh and blood had just left. The now orphaned Jack was placed permanently in his aunt’s care, and it seemed all too soon that Aaron Hotchner’s legacy had been washed down the storm drain. 

Because it was someone she loved, it rained at the funeral. Hotch was buried in the same cemetery as Will, close enough that if she squinted through her wet lashes, she could make out the outline of his headstone. It was a peaceful location, the spot next to Haley’s under a tree. 

But it was just drowned out by the rain.

There was nothing she could do to stop it, it was the weather, and honestly it was her fault for choosing a state with such dreary weather. But it chased her and it chased her and it chased her until she was cornered. She was cornered in a maze of grief, of loss, of heartbreak. And there was no way for her to escape.

The rain always found her.


End file.
